


The Clash of the Pesky Witch and the Grumpy Sorcerer Jerk

by Bunnylover94



Series: The Sun Met the Moon [2]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M, Genie breaking the 4th wall, villain love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnylover94/pseuds/Bunnylover94
Summary: Mozenrath is tired of heroes winning the day and walking through life without a care. It's about time those heroes learned how the world works. Mozenrath intends to keep them where they belong under his heel. Nothing will stop him from unleashing his master plan across the territory of Agrabah, not even that infuriating witch with the blazing emerald eyes. Will Mozenrath succeed or will his nefarious plans sink beneath the sand?





	The Clash of the Pesky Witch and the Grumpy Sorcerer Jerk

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I own nothing. This all belongs respectively to the creators at Disney. Happy reading! This is my tipped hat and gracious bow to the original animated series I adored more than anything in my youth. This second part is the longest in this trilogy of one-shots.

Clash of the Pesky Witch and the Grumpy Sorcerer Jerk

            Mozenrath looked out the one-way view, of the dark spiral trimmed portal, he had conjured to further examine his desired territory. The heroes rejoiced as they escorted the citizens back to their normal activities. Aladdin, the Princess, the irritating yet powerful Genie, the loud parrot and monkey were laughing and leaning into one another.

            Pathetic. Without that witch, they wouldn’t even be celebrating. They would be crippled and trapped. He intended to distract and injure those meddlesome heroes. Starting with their egos and then he would go further by shattering their pride. Heroes tended to shrivel into themselves once their pride collapsed thanks to the weight of the world always resting on their shoulders. Such absurd arrogance.

            Heroes were the most annoying creatures that ever dared to walk the planet. They had no self-respect for themselves, least of all allowed themselves to give respect to ambitious private citizens who simply wanted more out of their lives.

            Heroes simply lacked understanding the bigger picture. They only concerned themselves with the minor details. Heroes worried too much about others, and never about how they deeply interfered with than their better opponents.

            Mozenrath had a plot far more impactful than his recent diversion. And the dark sorcerer had positioned for his _true_ moment of greatness when the heroes were burdened under their deluded over-confidence. They would not stop him the next time he acted through on his plan.

Heroism was such a mind-crippling illness that blinded the self-righteous and impulsive. Aladdin was skilled at adapting on his feet in the moment of when his enemies struck. The Princess rivaled in that impulse to act before thinking her actions through to the final act. But they too failed to plan step by step over hours of careful planning. The Genie was a strange creature who lived on wherever his stream of consciousness took him. Those feathered and furry sidekicks either jabbered out nonsense or cried out screeching complaints. The rug was an inanimate object, a magical one, but an object nonetheless. Those sidekicks seemed to live there for the thrills, adventures and rewards.

There were other distractions his adversaries faced: both from their own pathetic lives and the consequences of the meddling natures. The consequences stemmed from other enemies that Mozenrath shared his irritating heroes with.

            Those other enemies were useful to conceal his other plans though. And they often kept the heroes out of his business and his magical experiments. Mozenrath adored the fact they were not always pressed on halting his daily routines. 

That bumbling fat man was intellectually inferior in every capacity. That thin dark-skinned man with the white turban held more genius in his pinkie than that fat oaf. It was obvious who really pulled the strings in that partnership.

            That lanky madman with the thick curved golden glass that circled one of the eyelids; and the strange shiny creations he crafted with his bare hands that fluttered through the air or tore into the sandy ground. The polished golden monsters terrorized and bothered Aladdin and his friends.

            The cat-woman seemed to enjoy meddling in Aladdin and the others daily lives. With her higher magic capabilities, yet even she seemed to fall in defeat before them.

            There also were the rotating sub-level villains they encountered on their travels or were imposed on them by their other nemesis.

            Why did none of them seem to stand a chance?

            Well, it didn’t matter, because Mozenrath would instruct the others on how to properly erase that mocking smirk from that street rat’s dirty, smug face. After he defeated Aladdin and his friends, Mozenrath would be worshipped and feared across the world.

            Poor, poor Aladdin. As usual, he had no idea.

            Neither did his privileged royal lady love, which wasn’t unusual. The Princess rarely noticed anything beyond what was clearly in front of her eyes. Her eyes remained fixed on her daring hero of a poorly clothed street rat.

            Yet that witch of theirs might become a definite obstacle for him. She surprised him. Mozenrath loathed surprises or anything that ground his plans into a screeching halt. 

            Mozenrath refused to permit a single witch stand in his way.

            She defeated his distraction with a simple flick of her hand. How? The others had been defeated and then she swooped in and decimated his key player.

            One woman who denied him his small victory against the infuriating heroes that proclaimed to defend Agrabah at all costs. They were deluded from the praise and “love” the people they protected gave to them.

            They never dared to expand their ambitions or bend to someone who grasped the bigger picture. Particularly, a man who obtained a meteoric rise in status. Without a Genie. Without a magic carpet. Without little furry or feathery minions. Without a bossy Princess or her powerful Sultan father. Someone who seized his moment and refused to hesitate when there were horrific obstacles

            Who else had the glaring qualifications and the power to wield and yield within Agrabah and beyond?

            He was the only sorcerer with the greatest mind, power and motivations.

            The only one who continued to defy him was Aladdin and his groupies. And possibly now his little pet witch.

            She had gotten lucky. She was a novice. She could not possess the skills to defeat him. Again. He would not allow it. No one should ever dare to get his way. He despised these heroes. All of them, even their newly acquired street witch.

            Before Aladdin, Mozenrath only had his own ambitions and arrogance that limited him from reaching beyond his ultimate goals. The sorcerer could recognize how prideful he was. He believed his pride was the direct result of being abandoned as a young child. He had to claw his way up the social ladder.

            Others didn’t know of the luxurious luck they were provided by the Fates. They never dared to reach beyond their current circumstances to change the system to cater their own goals. These stupid heroes only for non-rewards such as saving ungrateful “innocents” and their pathetic homes. They failed to realize the opportunities that were gift-wrapped for them: priceless treasure, powerful allies, helpful weapons, lands to conquer and knowledge.

            Why Aladdin and his friends never seemed to grasp what they had within their fingertips? He simply surmised that they were of noble reasons, or at least reasons tinged in foolish ones.

            “Aladdin is so pathetic,” mused Mozenrath.

            “So pathetic,” echoed Xerxes.

            Mozenrath swung his long cape around his back. He strutted to wide metal bowl and tossed some leaves into the boiling water.

            An illuminous dark yellow flash erupted above them and splintered across the tiled ceiling. Mozenrath raised a bored eyebrow. He waved his gloved hand and the water swirled. The leaves sunk beneath the water’s surface. Then Mozenrath grabbed a bottle of black sand and he threw it into the moving water. He pulled off his right gauntlet to reveal his flesh stripped hand. He slid his ring finger tip into the boiling water. He tilted his thumb at an angle, and then a blue flame erupted across the now darkening liquid.

            The spell would take a few days to cook, and then the fun would begin.

            Who could begin to grasp the immense power he summoned?

            He would first take care of those meddlesome heroes and then take their home for his new capital. All of Agrabah would bow before him.

            Except…that under-fed rag wearing dark-skinned witch; who would resume her previous pesky attacks on him.

            Those determined bright emerald eyes still drilled into his skull. That immense crown of her dark hair shimmered under the scorching Sun. That mischievous smirk haunted him. Her absolute refusal boiled him to his core, and yet he could not ignore that small sensation of pleasure that traced up his spine.

            “That witch won’t be able to stop me this time,” proclaimed Mozenrath.

            Both of his fists clenched, and two mountain-like bursts emerged from his knuckles. They streamed out to the top of the dome in the room.

            “No girl won’t. Mozenrath will beat her this time,” exclaimed a clueless Xerxes.

            _This_ time. Was his familiar trying to undermine him by questioning his abilities? He was the ruler of Black Sands, and a masterful sorcerer with more power in his thumb than that amateur had in her entire body. He defeated his predecessor without a single hitch. There were no true obstacles in his path, except those irritating heroes.

            Didn’t they understand what his lands and position meant to him? Without them, he would back at where he started. A nobody who had achieved nothing like that novice witch. No, he refused to return to his previous pathetic apprentice status. He was beyond that. Mozenrath had climbed and clawed his way to the top and he would take whatever means to hold onto that power.

            Even, if it meant eliminating that intriguing witch.

            His heart twisted at the thought.

            He supposed he would stop her, or…

            …convince her to join him.

            However, he was not going to fall for any of her sand witch tricks. Mozenrath was smarter than that. And he would not be defeated by a thick haired street rat who mocked him with her blinding emerald eyes and that annoying teasing smirk.

            A witch like her had no place to equate himself to her. He was beyond her. And she had the utter audacity to believe that they were the same. They weren’t. They were as different as day and night.

            All those valiant meddlers and even _his_ familiar needed to learn their place. He deserved one far more obedient than, not as mocking as his Xerxes. He wanted one with less sass and darker calm and confidence.

            But he knew he never would. Xerxes was an extension of himself and always would be an inadequate as himself.

            A furious sensation crawled up his body and his fists shook as his eyes flashed with illogical anger.

            Mozenrath turned and glared at Xerxes. Xerxes flinched at the intense frustration and violence that poured out of his dark brown–eyed that held miniature flecks of green glare. Xerxes sank into himself and his skin paled in fright.

            “Xerxes, if you don’t shut up. You’ll join the dungeons along with Aladdin and his friends, understood?” threatened Mozenrath.

            Xerxes provided a shaky nod before he zipped out of the room.

            Mozenrath’s shoulders dropped and a flicker of sadness shimmered in his eyes. He was never going to like that infuriating Aladdin with his mocking confidence and that _love_ that circulated about his group. He was as he always was: alone.

            Mozenrath’s body trembled and his lips pressed into a thin line. A knife carved into his lower organs and a hiss escaped his lips. A heavy feeling anchored his organs below abdomen and pierced his upper hip bone. The frown deepened on his thin lips.

            The moment of loneliness evaporated as an idea struck Mozenrath and a sinister curl of his lips appeared. The dark sorcerer had the right opportunity to implement the next, crucial part of his plan. The best part was that Aladdin wouldn’t ever know Mozenrath had defeated him until it was too late.

***

           

 Three days had passed and Mozenrath had sent Xerxes off into a separate chamber of his palace. Mozenrath’s spell had been stewing and the secret weapon…

Then a quick flash of emerald eyes that peered right into his portal and into his own eyes. Mozenrath heart thudded at a slowed pace and his breath seized to work.

            What was wrong with him? His hand pointed at the one-way passageway mirror to Agrabah. He extended the portal and then shifted the view to follow the dark-skinned witch as she waved to her friends and strolled away. He reached to the portal and brushed a singular strand of her hair behind her right ear. She then blinked and looked around. Strange…

            She wasn’t supposed to feel that. Perhaps, he misjudged her. She must indeed possess more power than he originally assumed. Only a being of the right combination of brain, ambition, magic abilities and inner strength could feel his touch.

            Mozenrath rarely encountered a being with all those qualities. He was intrigued, which was an uncomfortable sensation for the dark sorcerer. He preferred to feel anything but _that_. He had a plot to inflict on the heroes and conquer their precious home and its’ citizens. He did not have time to investigate whether that the witch was worthy of an apprenticeship. Mozenrath was a ruler, not a babysitter.

            She was not a girl, though.

            Mozenrath’s face twisted in a pained grimace. His eyebrow curved up down and his skeleton hand flattened. His heart plummeted and as the organ sunk, a brief defeated expression appeared.

            Suddenly Mozenrath’s spine straightened and his chin clenched. He snatched his glove and slid it over his bony wrist. He flung his cape over his shoulders and deliberately walked over to his boiling pot. He closed his lids and rose his arms above him. His lips moved with a rhythmic precision and his eyes glowed. A mist formed around him and a shapeless figure rose.

            It mirrored the dark sorcerer. The form shifted into an expressionless double of Mozenrath with all of his calm and devious gleams in its’ black beady eyes. The doppelganger reflected every feature of the dark sorcerer, except for one defect: respect in its’ eyes. The singular emotion that would never reside within the actual Mozenrath. The Mozenrath double opened its’ doppelganger mouth and then bowed before the flame erupting, smirking, and superior original Mozenrath. Mozenrath never bowed or humbled himself before those who dared to call themselves his master; and this doppelganger was perfect to destroy his main enemy.

            “My master,” breathed the creature.

             Mozenrath suppressed the enormous spear of glee that pierced his sternum. He coughed and pressed his right gloved hand to conceal his pleased smile. He erased the last trace of happiness with a swift twirl of his long luxurious cape.

            “My dear servant, you have come to me at an excellent time. I need you to capture an annoying ruler: The Sultan. The pesky heroes departed for a little vacation to one of their irritating barbarian allies in the north. Then they plan to head out to re-visit a few more of their dearest friends. Such a shame for them not to witness my grand victory. Oh, well.  And feel free to humiliate the guards as well,” commanded an arrogant Mozenrath.

            “Of course, my master,” breathed the doppelganger.

            Mozenrath dismissed the doppelganger away with an impatient hand swipe.

            “Now, go. I will send you my army, after you succeed in your mission,” declared Mozenrath.

            The servant then dipped into an open portal and trailed behind the Sultan in his little toy room to exact his master’s wishes. The Sultan shrieked in fright and called out for his guards, before the second Mozenrath muffled him with a stray piece of cloth. Once the guards burst into the room, Mozenrath cut another stray portal and summoned a thick mist that swarmed the room and halted the guards in their tracks.

            Mozenrath unleashed a devious gloating smirk onto his lips and allowed a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth. He then went to move the portal closer to him and the image shifted over to the emerald-eyed sand witch. Mozenrath’s smirk morphed into a flat neutral press of his thin lips. His eyes lit up with a gleam of curiosity. He then stepped into the portal with a sophisticated gait.

***

           

            “What are you doing _here_? You came back for round two,” demanded the witch.

            Mozenrath ignored her and treaded over to her tiny potions table. He picked up one of her small stone bowls with a small wooden rod.

            “Why are you here?” she demanded.

            Mozenrath ignored the incessant righteous demands from the sand witch. The least she could do was gracefully accept him into her little hovel. Not treat him as coldly as the Princess or Aladdin would. She was more like him than she cared to admit.

            “Why are here?” she repeated.

            Once again, Mozenrath ignored her, and instead observed a corner in this abysmal home. He kept his back to her.

            “So, what do you get from helping _dear_ Aladdin?” questioned Mozenrath.

            Sadira’s tense shoulders dropped a bit and she bit her lip. Her lids closed partially and then she shook her thought as if refusing to reveal her true reasoning.

            Interesting…Did she have feelings for the street rat? Or was there something he was missing? Perhaps limitless magic lessons from the phenomenal cosmic Genie? Or did the Princess and Sultan shower her in endless fancy clothes and sparkling jewels to satisfy the little witch?

            “Well?” prompted Mozenrath.

            “I don’t get anything,” stated Sadira with a confused twist on her lips.

            Oh, doubtful.

            Mozenrath hummed in a disbelieving tone. He frowned to himself and he touched a small area on the wall. His gloved hand concealed the obvious lack of his flesh. He pressed down on the rising shame that clawed at his throat. He ignored it and then turned to finally face the troublesome yet pretty, dark-skinned emerald-eyed witch.

            “I know you get something from their company. But have you deluded yourself so far to believe they understand you? Come on now witch, you know better,” he mocked.

            Sadira’s eyes sharpened and her lips flickered to a dangerous down turn. Her sneer sent a flutter to his chest. If she was pretty when she fearlessly faced him, then she was a gorgeous goddess when she was infuriated by his condescension.

            Mozenrath admired a witch who loathed to be pushed around. He especially enjoyed one who worked to get to her status, instead of wallowing in her past station.

            “Don’t you have babies to curse?” she retorted.

            Mozenrath smothered an amused grin and flashed her a smug smirk instead.

            “Of course,” he hummed around his curled lips.

            “Then go,” she huffed.

            “But come now. It would benefit you to have someone with a greater penchant of spells to aid you to soar beyond your current magical,” he proposed.

            A flash of indignation spread on the witch’s eyes and darkened her dark cheeks. It was…adorable for an amateur witch.

            “You came here to offer me magic lessons,” deadpanned Sadira.

            Mozenrath hid a wince and pressed on, “I recognize talent and potential, unlike your friends,” he lightly commented.

            Sadira’s mouth hung open and then closed in a thin line. She squinted at him in suspicion.

            “And what would you get from this deal?” she asked.

            “Many things,” he hedged.

            There was no way he would open his mouth and reveal exactly what he wanted from her, yet.

            “Just keep my offer in mind, sand witch,” coolly stated the dark sorcerer.

            He then rose his thin arm to open a portal and pivoted out with a swirl of his dark colored cape.

 

***          

            A few days passed on, both his doppelganger and armies had tightened their hold against the Sultan. Aladdin and his friends would have no grasp of what awaited them, once they finally returned. Neither did the residents of Agrabah. They would be left completely in the dark. The citizens of Agrabah rarely noticed danger, until it stared them directly in the face.  

            Aladdin and the others had abandoned their home at the most opportune time…for him. No doubt that they disappointed their loving admirers. It thrilled him to wait for the

            Shame.

            Mozenrath’s lips curled upward.

            “Mozenrath pleased?” asked Xerxes.

            For the moment, yes. Mozenrath’s heart was bordering on entering ecstatic territory.  Though, he sensed Aladdin, or something would undermine him soon. He, however, was not going to spoil the fruits of his victories. He was an accomplished sorcerer and a master strategist. He had combed through every possible outcome with his enemies and scoured his spell scrolls to use against the heroes once they arrived back in their beloved Agrabah.

            “Yes, everything is working fine. If Aladdin doesn’t return to ruin my current victory,” mused Mozenrath.

            “But Aladdin not here,” stated Xerxes.

            “You’re right,” said Mozenrath.

            He hoped it would remain that way at least for the next few days…Weeks if he was lucky. Nothing would anger the dark sorcerer more than seeing Aladdin’s arrogant and heroic glory right away.

***           

           

“Have you thought about my offer?” asked Mozenrath as he glided through her hovel.

            The sand witch crossed her arms in offense. Her facial features conveyed a mixture of irritation and distrust. She then pivoted away from him, and her shoulders tensed.

            Maybe, the witch would understand. For just a moment. He sighed internally. Why must she be so against him? He had never met her before their first and last magical confrontation. She had been an unexpected…nuisance, although he admitted in the darkest corner of his heart that he was impressed with her skies.

            He stared at her back and noted every thick black strand of hair, every tense tightened muscle, the tattered rags that adorned her thin figure, and how small and delicate her hands were. Those hands that had sent him back to his lands in shame and disappointment.

            Every part of her body distracted him. Why? He had no reasonable explanation. She must have cast a spell on him.

            But then…Why didn’t the sand witch seize her moment? He was practically kneeling before her. He considered her worthy of an apprenticeship. What greater honor was there?

            Since the heroes were still gone and no one, not even this witch, had an inkling of the recent power shift within the walls of the palace. They shouted and scuttled about their meaningless lives. They both contained an awareness for great power and a drive to push for their goals.

            “I don’t know why you’re here,” said the witch.

            At that, Mozenrath smothered an exhausted sigh. She had to have known he would return and want an answer.

            “I thought it was obvious,” he commented drily.

            The witch’s shoulders sagged and then she whirled on him. Her illuminous emerald eyes pierced into his dark colored ones.   

            “I’m not helping you hurt my friends,” she growled.

            Like a lioness who had her shoulders curled and their muscles prepared to spring forward and sink their sharp claws and fangs into their prey’s neck and shoulders.

            They were already defeated, but he refused to retort. His plan had finally succeeded and had not yet suffered under any form of heroes’ interference. Why hadn’t he implemented an attack against his enemies during one of their past travels?

            Instead, Mozenrath smirked at her. He prowled toward her with his fingers burning with a stream of magic that sprouted out a single blue flower.

            The sand witch narrowed her eyes.

            “What is _that_?” she demanded.      

            “I do believe it is a piece of flora,” he snarked back with a mask of carefully concealed from all emotion.

            “Why are you giving this to me?” she demanded softly.

            Mozenrath rose an eyebrow. He had expected more bite rather than a soft admission. But…a small shiver snaked up his spine and then tightened his throat. He fought to swallow down the delightful squeeze around his esophagus.

            He forced a mocking smile on his face.

            “Do you really think I’d waste my time by attempting to manipulate you, dear witch?” he said with an arrogant tone.

            She shrugged. “Perhaps. From what Aladdin told me, you are capable of anything,” she informed him with a tight voice.

            He felt his lips flatten and he pushed down a sneer.

            “Oh, did he?” asked Mozenrath in a cold voice.

            Sadira’s emerald eyes popped.

            “You’re mad, because my friend warned me about what his enemy is capable of,” she scoffed.

            Enemy, huh? Mozenrath stepped toward Sadira. She tensed, her back straight as an arrow. His brown and green spotted eyes bored into her and the dark sorcerer observed how her eyes shone in a deep-rooted distrust. Witches had often been burned by many who arrogantly assumed their power was evil. Fools who knew nothing of the glories that magical power provided and gave to witches.      

            “If you were like Aladdin, then I would attempt to use my typical tricks. You are not him. So, doing so only wastes both of our time. We are much more alike than you realize, young witch. We both want to grow beyond our current state. Beyond what others have said about us. What the world has given us. We have the gifts to change everything…Don’t we deserve that at the very least?” Mozenrath said.

             Sadira parted her mouth and only air escaped past her beautiful lips.

            Mozenrath hummed aloud and then smothered the disappointment that coated his heart. She would need time to process. He was asking her to abandon her home, although it was a hovel. Her friends, although they were annoying heroes, cared for her as she did for her. She carried deep distrust that clearly stemmed from her childhood.

            How had she been betrayed? Whoever had done so would regret it now. He would make sure of it whether she accepted his offer or not.

            Mozenrath extended out his hand to give her the desert flower. She hesitated, but she then reached out and cradled the delicate bloom in her hand. Their hands touched and a spark erupted across their joined skins. 

            He hid a smirk that curved up on the right side of his face by turning away from her. His cape swished in an elegant flutter. His fingers summoned a portal, and he strutted over to it.

“Think about my offer. I will return to hear your answer,” he called over his shoulder.

 

***

            Mozenrath paused as he strode through the marble hallways and tossed back his dark blue cape. He saw how his undead soldiers bowed to their heads to him. He noticed their groans had more calmness seeped into their nonsensical syllables than their normal miserable groans. Odd, but he didn’t care to remark on the current, collective mood of his pawns. They were meaningless henchmen dispatched and deployed to fight against Aladdin and others like that street rat. He intended to have the Mamluks frighten the imprisoned guards and Sultan. It served them right for assuming their statuses were secure in their cushy positions.

            An amused curl appeared on the left of his face. The Mamluks straightened their backs as he continued down the hallway. The dark sorcerer then turned down a slit in the wall and walked down the stone steps. He strode over the barred dungeons.

            “My lord,” bowed his mirror image.

            “Where is the Sultan?” asked the ruler of the Black Sand.

            “Right behind us, sir,” answered the doppelganger.

            Excellent the father of the Princess was where he deserved.

            “You’ll never get away with this,” shouted the round-bellied Sultan.

            His body was obscured by the long cell door.

            Mozenrath forced down an urge to roll his eyes. He smirked toward the useless and mindless ruler of Agrabah. He was deposed and defenseless.

            “I believe I already did,” coldly remarked Mozenrath.

            His voice contained a twisted mix of cold aloofness and strong victorious confidence. Mozenrath observed how the Sultan’s high feather bobbed against the opening half oval where the metal bars intersected with the cell door. The Sultan reminded Mozenrath of that loud screeching parrot Aladdin had.

            “Release the Sultan, you glove wearing tyrant,” commanded the loud captain of the royal guard.

            Mozenrath strode over to the cell two doors down. The guard banged against the hard door as if he expected Mozenrath to cower at the slightest vibration. He was the dark sorcerer who now both ruled Agrabah and his own land of the Black Sands.

            Mozenrath smirked at the bellowing guard.

            “No respect for the new Sultan,” retorted Mozenrath.

            The captain’s eyes glinted in anger.

            “You’re no Sultan,” he sneered.

            “I beg to differ,” said Mozenrath past a sweet condescending smile.

            He turned away.

            “Come back here and face me,” ordered the captain.

            What an annoying man, it was no mystery why he was dispatched by every adversary that invaded the palace walls. 

            Mozenrath ignored the chatty former captain of the guards.

            Instead, he approached his mirror image and towered over him. Mozenrath’s double lifted his head and left his arms pinned to his sides.

            “Keep them honest,” instructed the dark sorcerer.

            His servant smirked as he spotted the mischievous gleam in his master’s eyes.

            “Of course, my Lord,” he vowed in delight.

            “I shall return in a few days. Do not disappoint me,” said Mozenrath.

            “Yes, master,” promised his double as dipped into a deep bow.

            He smirked and summoned another portal, and then the dark sorcerer sauntered through it.  

 

***       

           

Mozenrath sauntered into the resting throne room and then he draped his arms over the sleek arm rests.

            He permitted a satisfied sigh to pass his lips. A warm smile crept up his face. A wonderful invader on his otherwise uninterested and sometimes infuriated face.

            He commanded a portal to hover above him. Then it spirited off around the ceiling and it halted in front of him. Mozenrath rose a bored eyebrow. His tracing portals loved to travel, before they approached him.

            “Find Aladdin,” stated Mozenrath in an exhausted tone.

            The viewing portal expanded and shifted into Princess Jasmine who leapt off the flying carpet. She sprinted over to the street rat. The Princess had her arms wrapped around the smug-looking street rat’s shoulders. Mozenrath nearly snorted at the sight but refrained from doing so.

            “Listen, I heard there’s this treasure map in Agrabah’s market place. Perhaps we can stop by there instead of going to rub shoulders with the Sultan’s top 5,” said the bird.

            “No,” said the Princess firmly.

            Mozenrath smirked. He had truly outdone himself.

            “That’s right. The Sultan’s coronation celebration is coming up,” stated the Genie in a joyous tone.

            He then morphed into a strange white and red painted face creature with thick red curls that twisted into random crazy spirals. He had big red slippers, a puffy sleeved cloth with a checkered multi-color pattern adorning the pants and the front, and a circular red nose.

            “Time to bring out the party favors,” said an amused Genie.

            The street rat chuckled while the Princess shook her head with a light smile resting on her face.

            “Can you be any more ridiculous?” demanded the bird.

            “Come on now, who doesn’t like a party?” asked the Genie.

            The bird rolled his eyes. “I’ve lived in the palace for as long as the Princess. Those celebrations are dull. All his old friends, who come from different kingdoms, arrive and just repeat the same old war stories. There’s absolutely nothing interesting about them,” informed the loud bird.

            Jasmine pressed her lips together and sighed aloud.

            “Iago’s right, but my father loves when they come…So we have to go back.” The Princess said.

            “No, we don’t,” argued the loud-mouthed bird.

            The bird had a point.

            “Iago, if Jasmine says we have to go…Then we are leaving,” stated Aladdin.

            Not happening, thought Mozenrath.

            He needed a few more days to establish his hold on Agrabah. These heroes needed something to keep their minds from their beloved Agrabah. He had prepared himself for their return, so he readied himself for the projecting spell. He silently groaned, since these spells tended to tire himself quicker than any other spell.

            Mozenrath rose to widen a small separate portal to unleash a wave of giant ice spikes and an undead frozen army landed on their bended knee positions.

            “What are these things, Prince Uncouthma,” asked the Street rat.

            “I have no idea, friend Aladdin,” responded the giant man who had lumbered beside the heroes.

            “This feels a bit too Game of Thrones to be real,” said Genie.

            A cloud of smoke surrounded him, and a black, brown and gray striped fur was draped across his shoulders. His black hair metamorphized into shoulder waves, and a long scar etched down his blue face. He lifted a long, well-crafted sword and angled it in a pre-sparing position.

            “Winter has come,” he growled.

            “Genie,” said Aladdin in a worried tone.

            “My friend from the South, don’t worry, I know how to kill them,” responded the Genie in a strange deep-voiced accent.

            “What-Genie, look out!” shouted Aladdin.

            An undead icy foot soldier impaled the Genie with a spear that struck directly in the abdomen.

            “Burn the body,” gasped out the Genie.

            The Genie then escaped in a cloud of blue smoke. He rubbed his chin as if pondering a great problem.

            “I thought this was a kids’ show,” muttered the Genie.

            The bird screamed in a headache-inducing volume.

            “These guys are-Look out, Monkey,” hollered the bird.

            The monkey screeched in high-pitched fright. Then the carpet intervened and snatched the arrow in the bottom corner.

            “They keep coming,” shouted the Princess.

            “How is this happening?” asked Aladdin.

            The monkey chattered in agreement.

            “Don’t worry my friend, we will defeat them the Odiferous way,” assured their brainless ally.

            The red-haired behemoth grinned and whistled. A giant gray horned beast emerged and rammed into the entire right flank of the army.

            Mozenrath smirked tiredly and then cloaked the entire land with a giant icy dome to allow infinite numbered undead army to keep Aladdin and his friends to stay trapped. The spell worked if the heroes kept fighting; and they would never stop because they were heroes.  

            Now that was taken care of. He deserved some rest, before he delegated more commands to his servants. The dark sorcerer’s lids closed as the portal shut to prevent the heroes from entering his palace unannounced.

 

***            

 

            Mozenrath had finished handling the last-minute touches. His army was prepped for Aladdin’s return. His double failed to humiliate the Sultan and the Sultan’s captured friends. They had arrived only hours after he cast that round of spells against the heroic street rat. Mozenrath had barked at his servants and had punished Xerxes for neglecting his familiar duties. He peered into his viewing portal and saw the heroes stopped fighting his limitless army who had shattered after they connected the dots.

His lips curled down, and his eyebrows creased together in an elongated dark, cruel upsurge. His fingers clamped down on his throne. Mozenrath’s gauntlet hand trembled in furious rapid vibrations.

Xerxes cautiously drifted over to the dark sorcerer. The familiar, though mindful of Mozenrath’s boiling rage, still was required to attend to the sorcerer to properly address Mozenrath’s every need.

“Mozenrath in good mood?” asked the familiar.

Mozenrath tightened his grip on his throne’s right arm rest so tight that a blue flame erupted and incinerated the throne. He rose in a single motion. Startling, Xerxes who jerked back into the nearest tapestry by the door.

“No, you stupid familiar,” growled out Mozenrath.

His projecting spell was waning, and he knew Aladdin would soon return to Agrabah without a hitch. He had to ensure that every piece of his plan was solid.

One false misstep and Aladdin…

No! Aladdin might be closer to approaching the magical barrier, but this delay provided him a longer period to seize more control and power. His title would become official if he could break the Sultan.

His double succeeded in terrifying the loyal guards, except for the Captain. Foolish man he was. He believed that Mozenrath’s defeat was just around the corner. As usual, he didn’t have a single clue much like the other tiresome heroes.

Mozenrath sighed. The Sultan hadn’t broken or bent the knee either, despite his servant’s multiple threats against both his life and his beloved daughter.

That pudgy ruler irritated the dark sorcerer almost as much as his other foes.

A sudden jolt of burning anxiety coursed through the bratty grump’s veins. He did not want to lose, not again.

Not to the street rat who possessed no drop of magical abilities and survived by sheer dumb luck.

Why couldn’t the rat lose something for a change?

Instead that bastard coasted through life without any substantial upheavals.

Mozenrath paced around his throne room until his calves strained by the long painful strides he forced his limbs to endure.

He paused and pressed his thin lips in a straight line.

Today was a perfect opportunity to obtain an answer he needed.

 

***              

 

Sadira’s eyes tracked him as he glided over to her with a tight jaw and an impatient gaze. His eyes swirled in heated determination. The witch prepared herself for the bratty sorcerer to storm off after she finally voiced her rehearsed speech.

Mozenrath looked like a tiger hunting for a deer in the thick, tall blades of glass. His eyes directly aimed on her hands. Her only weapon against him.

He needed to watch it.

He deemed her powers on a beginner’s level. He wanted her to be his apprentice. That was not going to happen. Ever.

Although, she yearned to have someone-anyone teach her more spells, she didn’t want to be taught by her friends’ enemy. He was the last sorcerer she needed, but secretly she wanted to say yes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that she was cute.

Her eyes widened and she felt her cheeks burn. Why would she think that? He was nothing like Aladdin or anyone who strove to do the right thing.

She had no room to talk, though. She used to operate for her own selfish needs. But she wasn’t that version of herself anymore. She no longer cared to compete for Aladdin’s heart. His belonged to Princess Jasmine for all of eternity.

She loved herself more now than she had. Before her friends trusted and loved her, she tolerated herself and she never imagined her life to change.

But it did, so she had to fight to keep her friends alive; even if meant she had to sacrifice her entire life to protect them.

Sadira exhaled sharply as she noticed how elegant his face was, and how his raven hair delicately descended down on his forehead.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said in a firm tone.

Mozenrath’s lips curled in amusement.

“Perhaps not,” he replied in an amused tone.

She wanted to wipe that widening smirk on his pale beautiful face. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you sure you’re the ruler of the Black Sand?” Sadira asked in a thick sarcastic tone.

He rose an eyebrow.

“Who else would I be?” he asked mockingly.

She blinked. He actually had a sense of humor. Who would have guessed? From what she had witnessed he focused on destroying everyone. He seemed equally prone to fits of anger, which scared her. Sadira hated shattering this opportunity to improve her magic.

But Sadira’s personal magic-based decisions didn’t just affect her. The entire city of Agrabah was at stake.

Sadira knew without a doubt Mozenrath would somehow force her hand to attack her own home wasn’t happening.

“You should go. I don’t think you’ll be getting what you want today,” she said in a guarded tone.

All playfulness vanished from Mozenrath’s features. His lips flattened. His dark eyes swirled in a twisted flash of bright, scalding anger and then it faded into cold acceptance.

“Very well,” he declared in a neutral tone.

Without sparing her a second glance, he disappeared into his darkened portal.

What just happened?

 

***       

Mozenrath stormed down to the dungeons. He sneered down at his doppelganger who cowered upon looking at his master’s expression.

Mozenrath’s glowered and his right hand erupted in a massive blue flame. He then aimed the outer flame to his doppelganger and singed a massive section of his right cheek.

A shadow danced behind him and Mozenrath rose an eyebrow. Without turning around, Mozenrath straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Aladdin, wouldn’t you agree it’s hard to find good help these days?” asked the ill-mannered dark sorcerer.

“I think you should give yourself a break, Mozenrath,” snarked back Aladdin.

Mozenrath sighed in feigned exhaustion.

“Pity. I expected some civil conversation from you, street rat,” snarled out Mozenrath.

He then tossed a blue flame at the bare-footed peasant.

The Genie then floated in front of Mozenrath and then swung his head back and forth between the sorcerer and his doppelganger.

“Al, I’m seeing double,” said the blue trickster.

Mozenrath gritted out, “At least someone’s paying attention. Get him!”

“Yes master,” replied the doppelganger.

The doppelganger leveled a basic magic defense against the phenomenal cosmic power wielder. The Genie screamed and then morphed into a long body sculpted, black-garment wearing male with curved, spiked hair, thick metallic claws and an enormous cigar hung from his lips.

“I’m the best at what I do. And what I do isn’t very nice,” he growled.

The doppelganger stilled and then smirked by summoning a set of chains that circled around the Genie.

“Uh. Oh,” stated the worried Genie.

He fell to the ground in loud boom.

“Would you stop goofing around?” demanded the red bird.

The monkey chattered in agreement.

Mozenrath turned to slink back to his palace.

“Hey! Mozen-jerk!”

The dark sorcerer closed his eyes. He turned to her with a blank stare. Her blazing emerald eyes drilled into him. Causing a hurricane to course throughout his body.

“Oh. It’s you,” he stated coldly.

His tone conveyed an underlying layer of chilled anger. He knew where her loyalties would remain with the daring heroes. They were her friends, the closest to family she possibly ever had.

However, he refused to lay down and take it. He intended to battle her like an equal. She deserved that at the very least.

He stared at her and refused to smother the glimmer of respect he directed at her.

She gasped sharply.

“Mozenrath, stay away from her,” commanded the Princess.

“Well, hello there, Princess. How’s the Sultan?” he asked in a cold, uncaring tone.

The Princess narrowed her eyes and snarled at him.

“Release my father-”

Mozenrath sent her flying back with a wordless spell. He pivoted away and swung his cape in a thick, rolling wave.

“Stop.”

“No,” he answered around a smirk.

The witch huffed. She rose her hand and sent a wet sand ball to smack him right on the nose. He blinked and then smirked in a dark, mischievous light. The dark sorcerer wrapped her legs around in a thick cloud of black smoke. She toppled over and yelped in surprise.

The witch narrowed her beautiful eyes. “Oh, you’re so going down, Mozenrath.”

She rose her arm and shot out a blast from her fingers and scorched the bottom of his cape. He sneered and then stomped out the burning flame.

“Wonderful,” he commented drily.

The witch’s eyes widened in horror. She snapped apart the smoky restraints. She lifted herself off the ground and tackled the dark sorcerer’s doppelganger.

“You little-” snarled the doppelganger.

Mozenrath turned and bit his lip.

He internally groaned.

He should have left as soon as-

“You’re dead, witch,” growled the doppelganger.

 The doppelganger sneered down at the witch and attempted to raise his arm to strike her.

A bright blue flame surrounded the doppelganger and the body dissipated into a pile of ash. The gang’s jaws dropped. Mozenrath released his magical hold on the Princess. The heroes turned to raise their eyebrows at Mozenrath in a questioning manner. Mozenrath ignored them. He waved his hands and all his undead soldiers also wilted into soft piles of black sand.  

“Are there any censors anymore? I think the producers are really slacking at their jobs,” commented the Genie.

The carpet shrugged, its’ tassels in two separate angles.

“That was weird,” commented the bird.

“Jasmine,” called out the Sultan.

“Father!” hollered the Princess.

“Thank Heavens, you’re all right,” replied the Sultan.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” asked the Princess.

“Please get us out of here,” hollered an unfamiliar

“That’s King Akbar.” Informed the red bird.

“You took long enough,” commented the Captain.

Aladdin laughed. “We had some delays.”

“I’ll say. That frozen undead army was the worst,” complained the bird.

“A bunch of underrated frozen zombies. A total Mirage move,” supplied the Genie.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Jasmine.

Mozenrath walked into the portal as the heroes grew distracted and released the Sultan, the Sultan’s friends and the guards. They all heaved collective sighs of relief.

“Tell me about it. Mozenrath what-He’s gone,” Aladdin began.

“Where did he go?” asked Aladdin.

“Hopefully away from here,” replied the bird.

“For once, I agree with the bird,” said the Genie.

 “Sadira, are you okay?” asked Jasmine.

Mozenrath paused within the domain between portals to hear the witch’s response.

“Yeah. I’m good.” She said.

Mozenrath felt a curl venture up his thin lips.

Perhaps being defeated by heroes sometimes held rewards he intended to collect once he faced the heroes next time.

Those emerald eyes blazed on and Mozenrath intended to incinerate anyone who dared to kill his witch, even his own servants.

 

Fin


End file.
